Mastering the Art of Sex
by Blueberrychills94
Summary: Cato Hadley is a scientist with one goal: discovering the secret to perfect same sex intercourse. He and his test subject Peeta Mellark go out to unlock what it takes to have amazing sex every single time. Peeta isn't what Cato thought he would be and the more they get to know each other, Cato denies that he's developing feelings for his partner. It's all strictly professional.
1. Chapter 1

**Mastering the Art of Sex**

Chapter One

"Cato, you have a volunteer."

I look up from my paper work in surprise, shocked to find Katniss standing in the doorway, glasses perched on the end of her nose and lab coat hanging from her slim frame. I knew she was looking for volunteers for me but I never expected her to find a subject willing to do what I need once she'd explained it all. I know my work is unorthodox, I thought Katniss would be coming to me to say that no one had wanted to help.

"Someone's actually willing to work with me?" I ask in shock.

Katniss nods. She leans on the doorframe and smiles. "He says he thinks your idea is interesting, extremely innovative and he's very curious as to how you plan to achieve your goal."

Okay, so this unexpected. I sit up straighter. "Male or female?"

"Male."

Thank God. Not that I'm sexist but the research would be a lot easier with a male. If a girl had have volunteered, however, I wouldn't have turned her away. It would have just meant that I'd have to find another girl to work with us as well. Since it's a guy I can be actively involved myself. It means much less crowding, which is extremely helpful.

"Why was he on the subject list?" People are only considered for the subject list of volunteers if they have a certain attribute that may be useful in the scientific field. If I wanted, I could just take whoever has volunteered for my work myself but that would just be extremely selfish, especially if he was on the list for another reason.

"His blood is AB negative," Katniss says, waving the worry off. "Thought he might be useful for blood tests or something. He can be a part of your weird experiment."

"You say experiment like I'm going to probe him," I scoff. "It's research." I stand up and walk around my desk, meeting Katniss at the doorway. "I presume he's here? If we're going to work together I might as well introduce myself."

"He's in the lab," Katniss replies, gesturing down the hall. "I think you've struck gold with this one."

I laugh at her optimism. I had worried when she first discovered what my research entailed that she'd judge me harshly for my decision but she actually saw the science in it and was very eager to help. As I walk down the corridor I reflect on how far I'd come since I first realized the potential of this research. I have all the theory work finished but now I have to do the practical work. Which involves this subject volunteer.

When I reached the lab door, I actually felt excitement bubbling up in my chest. I've been working on this for six months now and the actual opportunity to begin to get results is so within reach I can't wait. My hand is practically trembling with anticipation as I open the door. I know it seems ridiculous but science is my life and results is the most important thing so, sue me, I'm excited. I keep telling myself that I don't care about what the subject looks like, that it's about the science and that's it, but as much as I try to convince myself of this a little part of myself does hope they're attractive. It would also contribute to making the work a lot easier as well as the fact that they're a boy.

I enter the room and force myself to hide how excited I am. A gorgeous boy sits on a medical bed, a packed bag sitting beside him. He doesn't immediately notice me and I take the moment to do a sweep inventory. He's got beautiful blonde hair and pale skin, a strong but petit body. I can tell he's on the short side because he's swinging his feet back and forth as they don't touch the floor.

The boy finally notices me and looks up. His eyes have to be the most striking thing I've ever seen. They're a deep cobalt blue and stand out the most against his fair skin. "Oh, hello," he says. "Are you Dr. Hadley?"

"Yes," I say, pushing any inappropriate thoughts about his beautiful eyes to the back of my head. I shut the door behind me and shake his hand. "What's your name?"

"Peeta."

Peeta. I like it. Short but sweet. "Katniss tells me you're interested in working with me in my latest research?" I sit beside him on the bed. I have to put a more casual air between us if this has any chance of working. If I start professional, it will continue being professional until the end and that will ruin the patterns of the results.

"I think so," Peeta answers. He picks at the loose threads in his bag strap, unable to hold eye contact with me. I smile. That's sweet. "I don't fully understand what's required but your research does sound interesting. I thought I would have ended up doing something regarding my blood but what you're doing sounds like it could be ground breaking."

"Do you want me to tell you more about it?" I ask. "You are in no way obligated to continue if you don't like what you hear."

"Okay," Peeta nods. It's a small gesture and he's still not meeting my gaze. "Tell me more."

"I want to research the components involved with having perfect sexual intercourse," I begin to explain. "Perfect same sex intercourse. People seem to be more than willing to talk about straight people being together and taking part in such activities but what I aim for is that if I get the results I'm hoping for, it will be like that for homosexuals as well. It won't be a glazed over topic anymore."

"Perfect sexual intercourse," Peeta repeated slowly. "Won't be glazed over. Sounds too good to be true, really."

"But wouldn't that make it all the better if we achieved it?" I ask.

"What do you need me to do?" asks Peeta.

"Well, you have to be willing to take part in many-and trust me, many is kind of an understatement-physical and intimate practical assessments with me," I explain. I try to put it in the best way than I can (how can you put basically screwing around in a better way? Physical and intimate practical assessments was the best it was going to get).

"You mean sex, don't you?" says Peeta. He doesn't sound severely bothered by it, which is relieving. "I suppose that doesn't sound too horrifying. There could be worse ways to be experimented on."

"It's not an experiment," I quickly correct. "I'm not going to tie you to a table and cut your innards out just for the sake of science. And you're free to leave whenever you wish." Peeta nods, understanding the difference. He smiles a little and finally meets my eyes. There's a part of me that wants to get out a pH indicator and try to decipher what shade of blue his eyes actually are. It's amazing how vivid they are. I almost forget that there's something I want to do before I take him back to my house, where he'll be staying over the duration of the research process. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

Peeta nods again. "Sure."

I reach across him to grab my clipboard off the countertop in which I had left it. It's annoying having an office separate from my lab because I have to remember to not leave different things in different rooms. I'm lucky I even remembered to leave my clipboard here. I want to apologize for having to reach across from him because it's apparently rude or something but I can't because I get distracted by the way Peeta smells like cinnamon and musk. Actual cinnamon. It's the perfect mix of sweet cuteness and manly scent it throws me off.

I sit back and try not to think about it. Not right now anyway. "Full name?"

"Peeta Joshua Mellark."

It sounds even better in full. "Age?" I ask.

"Twenty."

Thank goodness, at least he isn't underage. "Sexual orientation?"

Peeta blushes a little with a tiny smile. "Gay," he answers. "Wouldn't be here if I wasn't, right?"

His smile is contagious. It breaks out across my face like an infection. "Any medical conditions?"

"No."

"Last sexual encounter?"

If he was blushing before, his face was a tomato now. Any confidence he had before was completely gone and Peeta directed his eyes back to the floor. "Erm, New Year's Eve."

The answer actually takes me by surprise. New Year's Eve was seven months ago. He hadn't had sex in seven months. I find it hard to belief, since he's so . . . so . . ._ hot_ but something tells me that he's not lying either. Huh, interesting. "Are you clean? No STDs or infections?" I continue. I have to hide my shock or it'll probably make Peeta feel bad.

"Not as far as I'm aware," Peeta replies.

"Would you mind if I checked, just in case?" I ask.

"Oh . . . yeah, sure."

I stand up and collect together the apparatus required to test Peeta for STDs. Thank God for Finnick and his invention of blood STD tests. I know that my line of work is now going to involve being much more intimate with the boy in front of me than what's required from a standard STD examine but it feels like a bit much for a first encounter.

Moving his bag out of the way, I take Peeta's arm and find the vein in it. "You'll feel a little prick but it shouldn't be too bad." I prep the needle and inject it into his arm. Peeta winces with a little hiss of pain. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Peeta says. He glances at me through his hair, smiling in a small shy way that almost causes me to mess up. "It's not too bad."

Once the blood is out of him, I lift one of Finnick's STD indicators and drop the blood onto it. Instantly, a red line appears, meaning that he's clean. I'm much more relieved than I thought I would be. If he hadn't been clean then I could have just gotten Katniss to get me another subject. But there's something about this boy that already strikes me as different. I don't want to have to find someone else.

"Is the red line a good thing?" Peeta asks, sounding concerned.

"Yeah, it means you're clean," I reply. I write this down onto the clipboard. "Was there anything you'd like to ask me? About the research or the time we'll be spending together?"

"Um . . ." Peeta bit his fingernails as he thought about it. Cato watched him curiously, trying not to think about how he found the habit cute. He had to keep it professional. "I don't think so."

"All I need now is your signature at the very bottom." I pass Peeta the clipboard and pen. He doesn't even hesitate before signing his name which is a good sign. When he passes it back, I admire his penmanship. The lines are curled at some parts but a little scratchy in others. "I can't wait to be working with you Peeta." I hold my hand out to him. Peeta's hand is warm as he shakes it, sealing the deal and his and my fate for who knew how long.

Peeta brushes his hair out of his eyes and smiles that annoyingly pretty smile of his again. The excitement is now running rings inside of me. This has got to work. No. Wait. I have to be professional about this. It's all about the work and the patterns and the results it will hopefully produce. No emotions are supposed to be involved. It has to all stay strictly professional.

All of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"So, where do you live?"

Peeta stands off to the side a little while I lock the building. He only has one bag with him and I worry that this maybe won't be enough. If he was part of an in-practice test then it would be plenty but I don't know how long this will take. I don't even have a rough number. Hopefully he lives close by, so he can go home and get what he needs whenever he wants.

"I have an apartment in one of buildings lining the Merchant square in District 12," Peeta answers. When I turn to him in surprise, he smiles sheepishly. "Long way from home, right?" he jokes weakly.

"No kidding," I say, stepping back from the door. 12?! That was on the other side of Panem! We start walking down the street, Peeta relying on me to know where to go. It's a mediocre evening. The skies are overcast and there's a breeze but thankfully it hasn't started raining yet. The last thing we need is for it to rain as my apartment is five miles from here and my car is in the shop having the brakes fixed. "So what brings you to District 2?"

"I wanted to get away from my family," Peeta shrugs. "They had always been quite overbearing and I wanted to prove I could make it on my own."

"How long have you lived here?" I keep forgetting that Peeta is my subject. It keeps feeling like I'm almost on a date. It's like the awkward, getting to know each other part minus the awkward. It's strange how it isn't at all uncomfortable, which I thought would be the main feeling for the next . . . three weeks at least.

"A year and a half," Peeta answers. He adjusts the strap of his satchel, the bag bumping against his hip with every step he takes. "I've been on your friend Katniss' Subject List for eight months now, as well."

"What made you sign up?" I ask.

"I don't know, it seemed interesting. As I said before I had always thought that I'd be picked out for my blood type but I'm not going to pretend I'm not glad that I was able to choose what I take part in," Peeta explains.

"I'm glad that you chose to do this as well," I tell him. "Without this my work will just seem like a bunch of technical ramblings. I want to be able to prove my points."

Peeta glances at me out of the corner of his eyes. "What are your points?" he asks.

"I don't know, I haven't made them yet," I answer.

There's a second where I think I've lost him but he chuckles a moment later. "Well, that's reassuring," he says sarcastically. A breeze bristles past and he folds his arms against the cold. "So, am I allowed to know the process of what you have planned or am I to be taken by surprise for reliable results?"

"Most of the tests will be so obvious," I say, "you won't really be taken by surprise because there's set up and stuff."

"I see," Peeta nods. His fingers tighten around his arms but he doesn't complain about the cold. I'd give him a jacket if I had one with me but I was born with thermal skin so it takes a lot for me to feel the cold, meaning I don't bother to carry anything. A part of me wonders if I could wrap my arms around him and if it would warm him up. As soon as the idea comes into my head, I dismiss it. Besides, he'll be warm enough tonight, since there's something we'll have to do before the night is over. I like to think of it as the icebreaker test. I want to record the body's reaction to being intimate with someone it barely knows. Like one night stands and meet and greets. I've borrowed apparatus from Katniss' lab and during the process of the test how Peeta's body reacts to everything I do to it will be recorded and put into a small handheld recorder which I will analyze later on.

The rest of the walk is spent in silence because I want to let Peeta think for a while. I have to cool it on the questions a little anyway. He might start thinking that I'm going to ask his social security number and what's written on his driver's license. His height and weight will be in his Subject file and I'll get that off Katniss later.

My apartment isn't much and I'm grateful that I actually tidied the place yesterday. Peeta hovers in the living room, unsure about what he was to do or where he was to go while I tucked some loose ends away before he saw that I had obviously cleaned up but missed some obvious parts. When I notice the nervous edge he's carrying himself with, I try to ease his worry by telling him, "The room is at the back there if you want to make yourself comfortable."

"What is the sleeping arrangement, exactly?" asks Peeta.

I straighten up and kick the cat's jingle ball under the sofa. At this point in the evening Jinx should be out flirting with strays and getting herself pregnant so I don't have to worry about Peeta realizing that I live alone with a cat for a while yet. "To build up the required intimacy, you'd need to sleep in the same bed as me," I explain. Peeta bites his bottom lip and chews on it thoughtfully. "Will that be a problem?"

"No," Peeta answers.

"Are you sure?" I ask this because there was a small glimmer of doubt in his voice and I can't have him unsure throughout the entire test.

"Yes," Peeta says firmly. He points at the door that leads into my bedroom. "That room?" I nod, still not convinced that he's okay and he mirrors the action. "I'll just leave my stuff off." He blazes past, practically creating a hurricane behind him at the speed he walks. His eyes are focused on his own feet as he walks, once again refusing to meet my eyes.

I follow him into the room and stand in the doorway while Peeta unpacks some of his stuff. "There's a cleared out drawer for some of your clothes and things." I've been preparing for my subject for ages now, having cleared out the drawer six months ago when I first came up with the idea. "It's the second one down at the left of the bed."

"Thank you," Peeta says. I watch him as he unpacks, completely hypnotized by him. There's something about him, something I can't put my finger on, that is so eye-catching. While he's working away, I go to the bed and pull some of a wooden box out from underneath. Peeta watches me curiously, pausing his unpacking to ask, "What's all that?"

"The tools of my trade," I answer. When I open the box, Peeta moves his bag off the bed and sits beside me on the bed to peer at what's inside. To him it probably seems like a bunch of medicinal nonsense. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time as I plug Katniss' blood pressure cuff into the recorder. She had it altered so it could record heart beats and irregularities. There are some other things I have to record as well but I'm not going to do all of it today. I'd probably terrify Peeta of what was to come if I slapped a temperature sticker onto his forehead, set up a voice recorder, hooked him up to a blood pressure cuff and proceeded to grope him until he orgasmed. Yeah, I know he sort of knows what he's gotten himself into but that's a bit far for the first night.

"Why would you need a blood pressure cuff?" Peeta asks.

"Katniss has been altering tools such as this one so that they do a different job that isn't their primary trade," I explain. "The blood pressure cuff measures your heart rate so I can record spikes in your cardiac reading during the tests." I gesture at the cuff and Peeta's arm. "Do you mind if I . . . ?"

"Sure." Peeta allows me to wrap the cuff around his bicep. "So, I guess we're hitting the ground running then?"

"It's the ice breaker test," I explain. "I want to gauge the body's reactions to taking part in sexual activities with an alien partner it barely knows. We won't have intercourse as if both were done at once then the patterns could get mixed up and besides, it's more a recording of the body's reaction to being touched in an intimate fashion by a near stranger. Such as whether it rejects the advances or accepts them."

"Do you really believe that the perfect sex lies in being with someone you don't know?" Peeta asks.

"I don't," I answer honestly. "But we have to consider all possible scenarios."

Peeta watches me carefully, his eyes almost glued to my hands as I take his blood pressure (yes, it does that too) and write a few things down. I can almost feel how nervous he is but I don't know how I'm to put him at ease. So instead we sit in silence while I take down the necessary details. "So what happens now?" he asks me.

I glance at him and put my stuff aside. "I'm going to plug the cuff into the recorder and then I'm going to kiss you," I tell him. "Okay?"

Peeta's eyes glisten in the light provided by my bedside lamp. His gaze burns into me in a way I can't describe. Even when I'm not looking at him, I can feels his eyes on me the entire time. "Okay," he says. I plug the cuff in and let it sit beside us on the bed.

I have kissing down to a fine art. I lean forward and gently cup Peeta's cheek. His skin is impossibly soft, like his face has never seen facial hair. Peeta allows me to draw him closer, his closeness causing me feel the heat radiating from his body. He studies me carefully, his breathing hitching a little when our lips are inches apart. "Last chance to back out," I decide to tell him.

"I know," Peeta responds. "But I'm not going to."

Those words, as if they were an electric prod poking him in the ass, pushed him into action. I close the distance between us and press my lips against his. I'm not sure what angle I'm going to go for, whether I'm going to do this gently or if it should be more carnal and animalistic. Then again, I suppose I should just let it come as it does, it's one of those annoying things that can't be controlled.

One of my largest worries is that it's going to be difficult to get into the moment with him. That it would be awkward and unsure about what to do. Somehow, it's not like that. My lips meld perfectly into his, almost like they've been designed to fit together. His mouth is soft and he tastes like coffee and strawberry lip balm. Not two things I would have ever thought would mix together and taste intoxicating but it did. I wanted more of it.

I lick his bottom lip, loving his coffee-berry taste. Peeta opens his mouth, releasing a tiny sigh when I slip my tongue inside. He puts his hands on my chest, curling his fingers into the shirt I'm wearing and pulling me closer. The hand on his face smooths down his neck to the curve of his back, lowering him down onto the bed. I almost forget we're doing a test but the rustle of the blood pressure cuff brings me back to reality. Right, yes, the work.

My mouth finds the soft skin of his neck and Peeta squeaks a cute little moan. I almost smile but force myself to concentrate. It's not about that, focus on the work. I feel Peeta's hands pushing up my back and meeting at my hair, which he fists in his hands. The little tug on my roots goes straight to my groin, like a little shoot of electricity blazing through my veins. I push my hands underneath his shirt, the tips of my fingers dancing across his faint abs. The gorgeous boy beneath me sucks in a breath and he accidentally bucks his hips.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it," Peeta whispers breathlessly.

Honestly, I don't mind. It's cute how he couldn't help himself.

I pull the shirt the rest of the way over his head and explore his pale torso with my lips and hands. Peeta purrs, his back arching off the bed as he pushes himself up into my mouth. His breathing has gotten much harsher and I forget again about the research, except this time I don't immediately remember. I settle between his legs and capture his lips again. I feel his hands cupping my face. I drink him in, feeling every movement he makes under me and hearing every sigh and short breath.

Peeta, as if shaken out of some sort of stupor, starts tugging at my shirt. His hands are warm against my skin, his touch sending a chill through my being. I moan a little and bite down on his bottom lip. He muffles a yelp of surprise but doesn't seem to mind. He hooks his leg around my waist, jolting a little in surprise when our hips bump together. His reactions are almost unbearably sweet. Although, the jolt that I also felt when our crotches brushed together was shocking. I've had sex with people before but I've never had such a shock when something as simple as hard ons touching occurred.

I'm stunned by how good his body feels against my own. He's hard and soft at the same time, it's strangely nice. I can't get enough of him and I'm kissing him with only tiny intervals of breath. Oh well, breathing's overrated anyway. His lips are worth the tiny risk of suffocation anyway. I blindly reach behind me and undo the laces on his shoes. Peeta helps out when it's clear that I can't do it on my own, kicking them off himself.

"How far are you intending this to go?" Peeta asks. Any nerves he may have previously felt seems to have disappeared. I flick the button of his jeans out of the hole and take a moment to think about the answer. I'm not sure. All I know is that I'm not going to penetrate him. I would like to as in terms of the research it would help greatly. The icebreaker test, as much as I believe it won't have anything to do with the outcome, there's still the tiniest chance that it might.

"Is there a point you don't want it to reach?" I ask him seriously.

"No, of course not," Peeta answers. He makes a point of it by wiggling his pants down a little before stopping and meeting my eyes again. "You just seemed a little hesitant."

"I'm not hesitant," I say. "It's in the name of science. Science is my life."

"I understand that but it's okay to be nervous about it," Peeta replies.

Nervous? Nervous?! Is he joking? "Trust me, I'm not nervous," I scoff. Peeta props himself up on his elbows and fixes me with a confused look. I don't know why but the gaze is so burning I can't even meet his eyes. Imagine the gall of it though, saying I'm nervous. I pull his jeans down to his ankles and get back to work, pushing the annoyance at his words. "As soon as I start working on the genital area, I'm going to turn on a stop watch and stop it once orgasm has been achieved. Understand?"

"Crystal," Peeta responds. "Sounds so romantic." I know he's being sarcastic but I ignore it.

"Romance isn't the goal, remember that." I hate how hesitant I sound. Why did my voice warble like that? Romance isn't the goal for the research and I'm sure he's well aware of this just as much as I am. So why did I falter as if I wasn't sure? This has been my six month work, I'm not hesitant about anything.

Peeta rolls his eyes and lays back without another word. "Go on then." For a second my heart skips a beat, worry that the moment has passed and we won't be able to complete the icebreaker test. I suppose if it has then tomorrow might still have the sense of unfamiliarity needed but it would have been best if it had been done tonight. I take a closer look at Peeta to see whether the moment has passed or not.

"Let me see your eyes a moment," I tell him, leaning over until our faces our inches apart.

"Okay, romance amping up a little," Peeta teases. His little jokes aren't actually as annoying as I thought they'd be. In fact, they're kind of refreshing. I smother the smile I feel bubbling onto my face and hold his face in place to examine his eyes. There's a twinge in my chest when I see the gorgeous blue up close. His pupils aren't dilated, the black circles having shrank back into non-desirable tiny pinpoints.

"Are you in any way aroused right now?" I ask.

"The conversation kind of put me off. I didn't realize it was going to stretch out," Peeta says.

"Right," I say thoughtfully, sitting up. "So non-sexual involved conversations eliminates arousal."

"Kind of," says Peeta. "Although I don't know if 'ooh baby, right there' would really have helped either."

I roll off him and pull the box back out from under the bed. "Good thing I have a plan B."

Peeta lifts his hips and pulls his jeans up again. He doesn't bother to button them and I find it difficult not to let my eyes drift to that point where hipbones end and his waistband starts. "Plan B?"

"Yeah. I'm going to record all the readings up until things deflated and then incorporate those results into when we'll continue it later. I'm sure I can make it work." I scratched the back of my head. "Great start, Cato."

"Ah, don't beat yourself up. It's my fault, really," Peeta says. He looks at the floor with a thoughtful expression.

"What?" I ask cautiously. "What is it?"

"I'm trying to figure out whether you were trying to be funny when you said 'deflated' or whether it was a joke or not," Peeta explains. He looks at me and smiles brightly. I laugh, having not been able to notice the irony in what I had said. "There you go, at least you're laughing. It's only the first test, it's not the end of the world." Undeniably, whenever he smiles, I can't help smiling back at him. And his words are kind of make me feel a little better.

I rub my eyes and climb out of bed. "I'm going to start working on the thesis."

"Already?" Peeta says. "We literally just stopped."

"I know but I have to record everything now while it's fresh in my head," I explain.

Peeta chews the inside of his cheek but nods. "Here." He unstraps the blood pressure cuff and passes it and the recorder to me. "Good luck."

I smile and pocket the recorder. "Thank you."

"Is it okay if I get some sleep while you're doing that? I'm knackered," asks Peeta.

"Go on ahead, it's fine," I say. "Next time, don't even ask. My house is your house."

"Oh . . . alright," Peeta says.

I sit down at my desk while he slips off the bed. He didn't had time to completely unpack and had to rummage around inside his bag for his pajamas. I pull the cuff out of the recorder and hook the device up to Katniss' smart phone. I turn on my laptop and start typing out my first test thesis. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Peeta moving around. It's greatly distracting. I try to focus on the work but I can't help stealing glances out of the corner of my eyes.

His body is-irritably-the sort of body I craved in my youth. I stopped engaging in self-pleasure and masturbation when I started studying but before that I was a little uncontrollable when it comes to things like that. If my fifteen year old self was aware of the fact that I was to be sharing a house with a hot blond boy in the name of science he'd probably start studying a lot earlier.

Peeta, oblivious to how he's distracting me, pulls a shirt and a pair of shorts on. I allow myself one last glance before I seriously get back to work but immediately wish I hadn't been so generous. He's standing sideways, typing something into his phone. His back is a smooth curve, accenting out into a cute little bump where his backside begins. Despite how difficult it is to ignore him, I force myself to and continue working on the thesis.

It doesn't take him very long to fall asleep and soon I'm working in silence, the only sound being the Peeta's soft snores that are surprisingly not as irritating as one would think. I feel odd and my mind won't concentrate on the task at hand. Before I know it I'm asleep at my desk, only one paragraph written and a mind full of confusing thoughts.

**A/N: Thank you everyone who's reviewed so far! I think for the next chapter I'm going to change to third person narrative because I find that much easier to manage.**

**#wesupportjlaw**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Cato woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon. It was strange, since he never woke up to anything other than stuffiness and the stench of his own sweat. He lifted his head without opening his eyes, surprised to feel something warm on his face. He cracked a curious eye open and was shocked at the sight of his bedroom window's curtains drew back and the sill having been cracked open. Whoa, that's new. That window hasn't been opened since he moved in!

Remembering that he had a houseguest, Cato spun around in his seat. He was taken aback by the sight of a made up bed and no sign of Peeta having been there at all. Cato blinked to make sure he wasn't losing his mind and was mildly satisfied when the image remained the same. Okay, so Peeta was gone. Had he decided to give up on everything already?

Panic bloomed in Cato's chest as he stood up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He went quickly left the bedroom, leaving his laptop on standby on the desk, and made his way into the kitchen which was technically part of the living room. That was the problem with living in a tiny apartment, most rooms merged in on one another.

The smell was quickly explained as Cato found Peeta standing at the oven, in nothing by a white t-shirt and a pair of shorts, frying bacon. "Hello Cato!" he said upon seeing him standing there.

"What time is it?" Cato asked, squinting out the window at the shining sun.

"Ten o'clock," Peeta said. He paused and took in Cato's zombie state. "I'm guessing you don't normally get up this early, do you?"

"Not at all," Cato replied.

Peeta winced. "Sorry. I'm an early riser. Um, here." He scraped some bacon off the saucepan and onto the plate. "Take that as an apology."

"I didn't even know I had bacon in the house," Cato frowned, pulling a seat up at the islet and taking the offered plate. He rarely cooked, instead opting to get something elsewhere. He couldn't cook for his life, let alone for when entertaining guests. He was glad that Peeta knew how to cook because he hadn't considered things like that at all.

"It was at the back of the fridge. I spent ten minutes trying to find the expiration date." Peeta smiles, a small little gesture that somehow makes the room seem so much brighter. "I hope you don't mind me cooking it."

"No, you work away. It would probably have gone off if it weren't for you anyway," Cato replied.

"I was thinking that maybe we could go over the plan for the research. What exactly is expected of me and what we're going to be doing over the next few months," Peeta explained. He pulled a seat up beside Cato and nipped a piece of bacon off the plate. "I think if I'm going to be doing this with you I need to know what you've planned."

Sounded fair enough. "Well, the icebreaker test didn't go exactly as I had imagined," Cato said. "I was hoping to get to the point of orgasm and then record all the readings from then before I wrote my thesis but-as you know-things didn't go that way."

"I'm sorry about that," Peeta quickly said.

Cato shook his head. "Don't worry about it, the fact that you got so turned off probably will help with the thesis. Was it the topic or the non-sexual content of the chat?"

"It wasn't any of that, really," Peeta answered. "I just completely forgot about what we were doing during the conversation."

"Oh, really?" asked Cato. "Even with me sitting on top of you?"

Peeta stared at the ground. For a moment Cato thought he wasn't going to answer but after half a minute, he finally spoke up again, "Yeah, even then. I'm sorry."

"Again, you don't need to apologize," Cato said. "All part of the research. But in terms of what we're to do in the next few months, it's all going to vary. After the icebreaker test, I wanted to test you in particular, as my test subject."

"Me?" Peeta asked, surprised. He paused mid-chew and stared at Cato in shock. "Why me?"

"Well, I need to know what arouses you and what doesn't, how long it takes you to reach orgasm etcetera so I can factor that into whatever future results we get and so I can eliminate your personal body reactions from it, if that makes any sense."

"I guess it does," Peeta said thoughtfully.

Cato turned a bit more towards Peeta and propped his elbow against the islet. "Tell me a little about yourself. Since we're going to be spending more time together we might as well get to know each other."

"There's not a lot to know," Peeta honestly answered.

"Well, tell me what there is to know," Cato said.

"Why don't you go first?" suggested Peeta.

"Alright. As you know, my name is Cato Hadley and I studied at Harvard University to get my degree in science and physics," Cato explained. "I've been working on this research for six months and probably would have continued to do the same if you hadn't have volunteered for the practical work."

Peeta chewed on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "That's all technical," he said. "What about the personal stuff? Birthday, favourite things to do over the weekend, favourite colour. It's basically like writing a dating profile when you're telling someone about yourself."

Cato raised his eyebrows. "Why don't you start then?" he challenged.

Peeta straightened in his seat. "Okay. Um, well, my name's Peeta, which you already know. I was born on the 12th of October 1992. I don't do much over the weekend except reading a lot. I don't have a job-I've been keeping an eye on the volunteer list at the practice-but sometimes work part time at my dad's bakery."

"You forgot favourite colour," Cato joked.

Peeta frowned and quirked an eyebrow. "Oh yeah." He smiled. "It's orange."

Cato snorted. "Like bright orange?"

"Of course not." Peeta rolled his eyes. "Muted. Like sunset." Oh yeah, that was kind of nice. Cato had never considered orange when thinking about favourite colours because he could never imagine choosing such a seemingly obnoxious colour. But the sunset orange. So simple, so understated. It seemed to fit Peeta perfectly. "Your turn."

Cato hated talking about himself. He knew it was essential to get to know Peeta but he wished that he didn't have to talk so openly about himself. It was embarrassing. "Urgh, okay. Uh, I was born on the 14th of October 1990 and I don't do anything really other than working. Maybe go out a few times for a drink but nothing spectacular. And, uh, my favourite colour is purple."

"Purple?" Peeta's smile never left his face. It made Cato think there was something laughable about his favourite colour. "Purple's in my top . . . five, I think."

"You have a top five of colours?" Cato asked.

"Of course I do," said Peeta. "You must always have a back-up, no matter what it is."

Cato actually surprised himself by laughing at that. Peeta was beginning to grow on him with every passing second. He was a breath of fresh air and somehow made the apartment seem bigger, brighter, better. They talked about some nonsensical things, things that Cato hadn't thought he would let himself get caught up in. With Peeta it just seemed very easy, the conversation flowed like a river and barely paused at all. It was weird but not unwelcome.

After milling around the apartment for a while, chatting and getting a few general things done, Peeta did something he didn't mean to let slip. "What exactly is expected of me and what we're going to be doing over the next few months?"

Cato raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You already asked that. We're in the middle of discussing it."

"We are?" Peeta asked. He straightened up, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Oh right, yeah . . ."

"Peeta, is there something you're not telling me?" Cato asked.

"No," Peeta said. He hastily stood up and walked around the islet. He sticks the frying pan into the sink and starts filling it up with water. It was obvious in his voice that he was lying. Cato got off his seat and leaned against the kitchen counter by the sink.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," Peeta said. Still lying.

"I can spot a liar from a mile off," Cato informed him.

"Let me guess: you found out in the name of science?" Peeta's attitude had changed very quickly and Cato began to doubt if they were going to be able to continue like this. But Cato wanted to know what it was that had changed him so quickly. Had he said something? He must have said something. But what?

"Peeta, if we're going to continue the experiment, you can't lie to me."

Peeta clenched his jaw angrily. He inhaled irritably and exhaled out again. "I have early onset Alzheimer's okay? I forget a lot of things. I don't mean to, it just happens. I didn't tell you when you asked about medical conditions because I didn't think my memory mattered!"

Cato was surprised. Out of everything he had thought could have been wrong, this was not one of them. "Your memory wouldn't be a problem, I just wish you hadn't lied to me," he said.

"I didn't think, I'm sorry," Peeta said. "In fact, last night I was trying to remember whether I did tell you or not."

"You're twenty," Cato said incredulously. Peeta nodded sheepishly. "And you've been diagnosed with Alzheimer's?"

"Youngest case ever," Peeta replied. He smiled weakly. "I could apply for a world record."

"You could," Cato agreed. "Why didn't you just tell me, Peeta? You could have just told me."

"Do you honestly think it's something you can randomly talk about as if it's normal? I've got a mental illness that mostly affects eighty to ninety year olds. Besides, if I told you, then you'd start to treat me differently, wouldn't you?" Peeta threw himself onto the couch and folded his arms and exhaled dramatically.

"I'm not that superficial," Cato replied. He sat beside Peeta and propped his feet up on the coffee table. "We all have our things we like to keep quiet. I just wish I hadn't forced you to admit this since you didn't want to." He paused. "Is that why you forgot what we were doing last night?"

"No!" Peeta exclaimed. He sighed. "Okay, yes. I'm sorry, it won't happen again I swear to God."

Cato didn't know whether Peeta's word on that would be enough. What if Peeta forgot again and lost his interest? "Peeta, what if this interferes with"-

"It won't! I swear!" Peeta exclaimed.

As if to prove the point he jumped off the couch and ran into the bedroom. Cato stared at the empty doorway, wondering what the heck he was up to. There was rummaging in the room before Peeta emerged again. He had the blood pressure cuff strapped to his arm and held the recorder in the other. Wedged under his arm was Cato's notepad and a pen. He sat down beside Cato again, handed him the notepad and pen and started rhyming stuff off.

"If you want to know more about me sexually then there's not much to know but I can give you a few things," he said. "I'm a virgin because I found out about my deteriorating memory when I was sixteen and have spent most of my teenage years after that going to doctor's appointments. Apparently it's a medical miracle or whatever but I don't know. So while most people my age were out looking for sex and stuff, I was basically trying to find out why my mind is the way it is."

"You said that the last time you had intercourse was on New Year's," said Cato.

"I know but . . ." Peeta trailed off sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. "I met a guy at a party and we fooled around a bit but nothing got . . . put anywhere."

"I see." Cato wrote this down. It might greatly aid the research to record the reactions of a virgin. "So, is there anything in particular that stimulates you or do you not really know since you haven't taken part in actual intercourse before?"

"I've masturbated, if that's what you're trying to say." It was clear that Peeta was struggling to be confident and forcing himself to smother that shy part that was screaming to be released again. "I may have been a medical miracle but I was still sixteen."

"So you do know your own personal fetishes? Or anything that you feel I should know that you think might interfere with the research?" Cato asked. "Factors I should counter in and eliminate when writing each test up?"

Peeta chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. His eyebrows screwed up but smoothed out again in a matter of seconds. "I don't think so. If there is, I haven't discovered it yet," he explained. Cato nodded and wrote this down. Peeta gently tossed the recorder into Cato's lap and smiled tightly. "So, are we going to try this ice breaker test again?"

Cato chuckled but nodded. "Alright," he said. "Let's do this."

~xXx~

It turned out that Peeta's Alzheimer's didn't affect the results at all. The previous night must have been a blip as when they tried again on the couch, it went smoothly without a single hitch. Cato found difficulty, however, because there were times during the test when he kept thinking that Peeta wasn't a test subject and was instead a sexual partner. Like a one night stand or dare he say it a boyfriend. He had to reprimand himself so many times and remind himself to stay focused and that it was all just a test. That when the research was over, Peeta would leave and they'd probably never see each other again.

Peeta slept like a baby after the second icebreaker. Cato sat on the floor and wrote his thesis, not wishing to disturb his test subject, who was sleeping soundly on the couch, curled up in a red blanket. Cato found himself glancing at him every now and then, as if making sure that he was still there. He couldn't help it, it just kept happening.

It took half an hour to reach the point of orgasm. In the point between the beginning of the test and the end, Cato got many interesting results. Peeta's heart rate spiked considerably on two occasions. Of course, throughout the course of the encounter, he had had a very fast heartbeat but after ten minutes Cato had turned Peeta over and brushed his lips along his shoulder blades. He remembered the reaction he got clearly: a deep moan of approval and an arching of the back. At least the reaction matched the heartbeat spike. Shoulder blades must be Peeta's weak spot, either that or he's hyper sensitive there. Either that or kissing shoulder blades was part of the equation. Or it could have been the fact that they were ten minutes through it. Man, there were so many variables to go through.

Cato and Peeta didn't actually have sex. Not yet. The icebreaker test didn't have to be sex, it was just to test the body's reactions to a near stranger. Cato had brought him to orgasm by using his hands instead of his penis. They were going to have sex soon, Cato planned on it, and everything would hopefully go to plan. All he had to do was factor in the fact that Peeta is a virgin.

Peeta turned on the couch so his back was to Cato. He slept in the fetal position, his body curled in on itself so his back was curved outward. Cato almost smiled but he caught himself out. He paused and watched Peeta sleep for a few minutes. Every little shift, every move, every little sound was absolutely fascinating. Cato wondered if it were possible to study a person, to study their anatomy, their make-up, what makes them the way they are. Maybe that's something he could look into after this. Maybe he could keep Peeta on longer afterward.

The blanket shifted down to Peeta's waist as he adjusted his position. Cato couldn't stop staring at Peeta, despite the part of his brain that told him he was procrastinating. It was almost sad that he was losing his memory, in a few years' time would he even remember his own name? Who he is? His own moral system, his beliefs?

Cato shook his head. Don't start thinking like that. If he keeps along that line of thinking then he'll never get his job done. Whatever goes in Peeta's life beyond the research is none of Cato's concern.

In the name of research, Cato leaned forward and brushed his fingers along Peeta's shoulder blades. The sleeping boy shivered, a shudder that shook his body. Right. Definitely a sensitive spot. Okay, that explains the spike in Peeta's heart beat earlier. The other spike was when Peeta had cum at the end so that was pretty self-explanatory.

Cato threw himself into his work, trying to convince himself that he couldn't care less about Peeta's personal issues, it was all just for the research. No matter how much he didn't believe it.


End file.
